


no post on sundays

by VintageSpaceship



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Slow Updates, Tagging as I go, friend letters to love letters, friends to lovers? no, no beta we die like men, with bitterness and angst in between
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28750854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VintageSpaceship/pseuds/VintageSpaceship
Summary: Merlin's beard he's started a correspondence with a muggle. Mum's going to kill him. He can practically hear the lecture now... "Fred Weasley! Breaking the Statute of Secrecy! Your brothers would never-"On second thought... breaking the Statute of Secrecy does have a nice ring to it.-Sending one reply to the muggle girl that rescued Errol isn't supposed to mean anything. Nor is the second or third reply supposed to mean anything either. Or the tenth. Or thirty-seventh. By the time he meets Hermione Granger at the start of his third year, Fred figures he's already half-way in love with a girl he's never met and rules were made to be broken anyways.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley
Comments: 13
Kudos: 71





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The synopsis hurts me on a spiritual level, expect a fix of that later.

It’s the summer before his second year when Fred comes to the conclusion that the Burrow is kind of like one of dad’s cars.

Misshapen. Disorienting. Likely to toss a black and blue Weasley out at a moment’s notice. Barely held together and falling apart at the seams. But completely and undeniably loved.

Another kitchen cupboard had just fallen out the wallーan echo to Mr. Weasley’s yelps of glee from the shed housing “that blue monstrosity” as Mrs. Weasley likes to call it (Arthur personally prefers “Miss Lady Dear” but lucky for him Molly hasn’t heard that… yet)ーwhen Errol decides that’s the perfect moment to practice emergency landings into Fred’s breakfast.

Errol squawks furiously, (confusedly?), the small bowl balancing upside down on his head as the owl tries to shake the milk off, only succeeding in slipping and tipping over, sending the bowl to the tiled floor below where it shatters into a thousand pieces.

Just like dad’s car.

Luckily it’s a dish from one of the mean aunts that likes to coo and pinch cheeks so Fred figures it won’t be missed if he just wingardium leviosas it out the window. Towards the shed.

He turns back to the owl to find Errol scarfing down the muggle cereal, still dripping milk from his feathers. Fred manages to wrestle the letter from where it’s tied around Errol's legー _Merlin, Morgana, and Snape’s merry tits, did Lee really need to tie so many knots_ ーslumping back into his chair, victorious, he breaks the seal, rolling his eyesー _really, Lee? this isn’t the Goblin era_ ーopens the letter, eyes catching on a strange wordー _’vacuum’_ ーbefore reading the postscriptー _first rule of letter reading, read the end first_ ーand freezing.

_‘P.s. Is “spell” another word for a stick or broom or something like that? I can’t imagine what else you’d use to get an owl down from the attic, speaking of-’_

It’s at times like these where Fred likes to recall those wise words his father likes to speak into the dark silence after “Miss Lady Dear” chokes on a guzzle of exhaust and dies:

“Son of a _bitch_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need you to know that I forfeited sleep for this. It's almost 6am. I want to die.
> 
> You should also know that I am in an unbearable amount of pain for having to mark this as a multi-chapter fic. I hate commitments.
> 
> But the end is already written! Sort of? The part that hurts at least. Regardless, I just have to work backwards, so expect semi-regular updates?? 
> 
> We're skimming the first five or so books and then floundering through the last two because I'm obsessed with half-blood prince. Cool? Kay, break.


	2. Chapter 2

The letter is still where he left it on the table, surrounded by the crumbs of cereal and puddles of milk starting to stretch towards the edges of the bright white paper.

Fred’s arms are starting to hurt from where he’s leaned up against the kitchen sink, staring down the innocent scrap of paper, deep in thought.

_‘Why were you sending a letter by owl anyway? Is it faster than posting a letter the regular way? Or do you maybe not have stamps? Also…’_

Merlin's beard, he's started a correspondence with a muggle. An actual bleeding muggle

Mum's going to kill him. He can practically hear the lecture now... "Fred Weasley! Breaking the Statute of Secrecy! Your brothers would never-"

On second thought... breaking the Statute of Secrecy does have a nice ring to it.

He’s barely considering the repercussions of this choice before he’s ripped a new sheet of parchment to start writing his reply.

_‘Dear Lucy…’_

* * *

When the great grey owl slumps through Hermione's bedroom window a week later it's all she can do to keep her hands from trembling as she offers the bird a couple of small treats.

Her first encounter with the owl had been less than polite, and the violent screeching that had woken her at 2 in the morning still wakes her from time to time in echoes. 

The poor old owl had gotten tangled in some stray wiring by one of the houses and crash landed into her bedroom, wafting singed feathers and a flurry of paper as he sat up amid torn books, indignant and in pain.

It’d taken a few days and a couple trips to the library but she’d managed to calm him down and get the wires out of his feathers and some food in his belly. (She knew owls weren’t supposed to eat honey puffs but the poor thing just seemed so tired and she really had no way of getting mice for him either.)

And while she knew you weren’t supposed to read other people’s mail, she figured the folded scrap of parchment at the edge of the owl’s makeshift bed was unlikely to find it’s recipient anytime soon, so with guilt eating deep into her stomach she’d untied the ribbon, read the letter, and sent a reply a few days later when the grey bird seemed a bit chipper.

And now there was another letter:

_‘Dear Lucy,_

_‘Thank you for returning Errol. He’s a bit dim and his feathers are starting to wear quite a bit but he is family too so I reckon that makes up for his other issues. Like his tendency to screech at odd hours when he gets stuck in the attic. You would not believe how often that happens!_

_‘Moving along, what’s a vacuum? Sounds strange but glad it helped you with Errol, he does make quite a lot of messes._

_‘And to answer your question, yes the Cannons won! We’ve been all nerves here and are very excited that they’re moving on in the prelims, who knows, maybe this will be the year they get to play in the tournament! My brother isn’t all that optimistic but no one listens to the prick anyways._

_‘Also what’s this about an enchanted wardrobe and a talking lion? Are you sure it's a lion? Maybe it’s a sphinx. Those are the ones that are supposed to talk in riddles and circles and all that anyways. And a witch? Just one? Not even any wizards? No wonder she’s making all those statues, probably just looking for some company, not that centuars would make good company, they’re jerks, serves them right. Please inform of what happens to the satyr._

_‘Til next time,_

_-Gideon_

_‘P.S. The thing about Errol getting stuck in the attic? It’s happened twice since I’ve received your letter. I’m at my wits end. Keep him please, I don’t want him anymore. He’s a hazard._

_‘P.P.S Actually please return him, Mum will hex me into the next school year if he disappears off the face of the earth.’_

Towards the end Hermione realizes her hands are shaking. 

No one ever asks about the books she’s reading. Honestly no one’s ever really taken much of an interest in her to begin with. But there’s this stranger on the other end of an owl’s flight path that thinks she’s worth writing to. Worth it enough to share a bit more about his life and ask questions about what she loves. 

She doesn’t know what she was expecting when she wrote that initial letter, doesn’t even know what she’s expecting now. A friend is too much to ask for, she knows that much, but maybe just someone to talk to would be nice.

The sun is just starting to peek into her window so she thinks it’s probably safe to venture outside of her room without waking anyone.

Her bedroom is on the second floor and she has to pass her parents’ room to get to the stairs, her bare feet silent on the wood floor as she sneaks past. Mimsy sits at the top of the stairs, a dark puddle against the morning light, and Hermione pats the cat briefly before edging her way down. 

The office door creaks a bit as she pushes it open and slips into the room, heading straight towards her mom’s desk. She steals down some stationary and grabs a pen, scribbling on an envelope destined for the recycling before putting her pen to paper.

_‘Dear Gideon,_

_‘I’m glad Errol made it back to you safely (also to learn that he does in fact have a name!) and was wondering if he would be able to take a package your way... ‘_

When she’s satisfied with her letter she folds it up nice into an envelope and seals it with a sticker—no wax this time, she’d nearly burned herself for a novelty—and sends the writing supplies back to their places. 

She makes her way into the kitchen, letter in hand, and retrieves a box of cereal which she dumps into a bowl as the kettle warms. 

It’s only a couple of weeks into July so she decides to open the window above the sink and breathe in some of the morning. 

The kettle starts to hum and she turns to grab it before it begins to sing. She turns and nearly runs into Errol, who’s rushed the cereal bowl, and drops the kettle. 

Hermione braces for pain and closes her eyes… only it never happens. She opens her eyes slowly, like if she keeps them squeezed shut time can’t move forward, only to see the kettle hovering just at waist level, scalding water contained, and no strings attached.

She reaches forward to grab the kettle and it goes easily. 

That’s… strange. Not her first bit of strange but definitely odd. The kettle is a bright red now, the spout and handle a matching gold. Odd things have happened in the past, for sure, but the kettle changing color is… new.

She pours some water into her cup, bobbing the bag and allowing it to steep a bit as she sits at the table, thinking.

There’s been objects that fly to her and animals that sneak out of the woods behind the school to sit with her at breaks. Clothes that were three sizes too small fit suddenly, her bedroom light blinks out at bedtime only for a small glowing star to appear under her covers awhile later when she decides to read. One time at the library she’d been frustrated that a book she’d wanted was checked out and likely wouldn’t be available for another two months, only to get home and discover three copies of the book sitting on her bedside table

She fancies herself a Matilda.

But changing the color of the kettle? Odd. And not very Matilda-like.

Errol’s finished his cereal so she passes along the letter, which he grabs in one talon before hopping towards the window and flying into the morning fog.

Hermione finishes her tea and heads back upstairs. Her parents are just starting to stir when she closes herself into the bathroom to get ready for the day.

When she leaves awhile later, library card in hand and kisses on both cheeks from her parents, she only has thoughts of the kettle and her mystery friend.

Magic—oh how she wants it to be magic— and Gideon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhh... yeaaaaahhhh. So if you saw the original version of this chapter, congratulations! I’m so sorry!  
>   
> This was up for a day before I was like I hate it and took it down, rewrote, doubled it, and now here we are. Still shit, but longer shit.  
>   
> Also dragging this out is causing me physical pain. I just want to skip to the fun stuff but nooooooo we need baackgrrooounnd and connnteeeext.  
> 

**Author's Note:**

> Find/fight me on the [interwebs](https://linktr.ee/vintaa)


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